


A Man of Reputation

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard has always been aware of his responsibility to his parents, his family name, and his daughter. When Rodney McKay moves in next to him and proves to eschew most social rules, John is torn between admiration and fear for his own reputation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man of Reputation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/gifts).



> This was written for Antares04. Many thanks to that_which for going over this and fixing not just the usual mishaps but many instances of modern language, making this much better than it was. I also owe gratitude to K for answering a few questions, and last but not least many thanks to Antares04 for bidding for me and being so patient!

John looked out the window. The weather had cleared up, and it was the appropriate time to finally call on his new neighbor, Rodney McKay.

Telling his butler that he'd be back in an hour, John left to walk the quarter mile down the road to his neighbor's home. Mr. McKay had acquired the estate from the children of the recently deceased Admiral Leverston, who'd been a good neighbor to John for almost two decades, ever since John had chosen the estate as his primary place of living.

John had been sad about the admiral's death. The man had been kind and quiet, and he had generously allowed John to ride his horses on his grounds. It was the latter that drove John to pay a visit, even though McKay hadn't indicated any interest in meeting his new neighbors thus far.

McKay hadn't thrown a party to introduce himself, and John's welcome present had been met with a thank you note not even personally signed by McKay. McKay's behavior had been something of a scandal to some of his neighbors, but John figured he might not have gotten around to socializing just yet.

Maybe he was as quiet as the admiral, though John had been told that McKay was John's age, which made the pressure to socialize a lot greater, as John knew to his regret. If McKay preferred to be alone, John would be amenable to that. And if McKay wasn't inclined to share his grounds with his neighbors for riding out, John would simply have to take the slightly less scenic route along the large fence.

John was greeted by McKay's butler. "How may I assist you, sir?"

"I'm John Sheppard from the next house," John said, pointing towards his home.

"Mr. Sheppard," McKay's butler seemed delighted. "Your buddleia has been well received. Such beautiful flowers. And I'm willing to bet no butterfly within a mile can resist its scent."

John nodded politely in acknowledgement and made a mental note to tell his butler, who'd selected the gift for McKay, that it had been well received. "I hope its presence will enhance an already gracious home." Getting to the point, he added, "I'm sure Mr. McKay is busy, but I was wondering if I could have a quick word with him."

The smile froze for a moment on the butler's face. "I will inform Mr. McKay of your request. If you'll wait for a moment," he opened the door wide and let John step in.

John waited as the butler went up the stairs. The hall didn't look very different from when he'd last been here. A large painting of a sailing ship high at sea had been replaced by a tasteful landscape, but the furniture had remained the same.

After a few minutes the butler returned—alone.

"Mr. McKay would like to know what you wish to discuss with him," the butler said. He was smiling, but visibly pained by the unusual and frankly rude request.

"I...uhm," John said, unsure how to proceed. If McKay couldn't be bothered to greet him, how likely was he to let John ride on his grounds at his leisure? But since he'd come over, he might as well complete the call. "Admiral Leverston was kind enough to allow us to treat his grounds as our own when we ride out. I was wondering if Mr. McKay might be willing to continue that generous gesture."

Ordinarily, John would never have said such a thing to a household servant. He would have spoken to McKay and mentioned the admiral's neighborly gesture, giving McKay the chance to make the same neighborly gesture without being asked. But since McKay chose not to talk to him, McKay would have to suffer the request. Not that John doubted he'd have a problem with saying no.

McKay's butler nodded, uncomfortably, and retreated up the stairs to relay John's answer.

After another minute, John heard a voice coming from above.

"Horses? What do I care about horses?"

Then he heard the butler's voice, too subdued for John to understand, and a moment later a rather disheveled looking man came down the stairs, the butler behind him.

The man—apparently his new neighbor, Rodney McKay—spied John below in the entrance area and faltered in his steps for a moment. His eyes traveled from John's hair down his body and back up. John couldn't say that he was surprised by the unusual and inappropriate gesture. McKay certainly did not attach importance to manners.

McKay continued down the stairs, followed by his butler, who introduced John. "Mr. Sheppard from next door. He was the kind gentleman who sent—"

"Yes, thank you, George," McKay interrupted the butler. To John he said, "George informed me...well, it was something about horses, which frankly makes not an ounce of sense, since I do not own horses, nor do I plan to acquire any in the near future."

John glanced to George, who looked apologetic on behalf of his master. "I understand, Mr. McKay. The horses George referred to are mine. I like to ride out if the weather is fair, and Admiral Leverston was kind enough to allow me to use his grounds when I do so."

McKay stared at him.

Failing a response, John continued. "Obviously, the estate is yours now, so I can't assume that you won't have different ideas about what would be appropriate to—"

"Good god," McKay interrupted him. "You've come to ask if you can continue to ride out on my grounds? Be my guest. I could not care less about horses or other animals roaming around as long as they do not disturb my peace and aren't dangerous. George mentioned wolves once, but I'm fairly certain he was only joking."

George looked innocent and John had to blink. His new neighbor—and his servants—certainly were interesting.

"Thanks for your generosity," John said. McKay dismissed him with a wave of his hand. On impulse John added, "And you need not worry about wolves, though the bears can become a terror in spring."

McKay's eyes narrowed. "I'm not certain if you're pulling my leg. George, be prepared for bears in any case."

"Yes, sir," George said.

"What time is it?" McKay asked. "I feel like I haven't eaten in ages."

"It is long past lunchtime," George informed him. "You did not touch the food that I sent for you two hours ago. I will have something warmed up for you momentarily."

"Please do," McKay said. "Sheppard, what about you?"

"I have eaten already, thank you very much," John said.

"That was very sensible of you. I get too easily distracted," McKay said. "Though to be fair, I have made some great progress. So great in fact that I will forgive you for interrupting me."

John frowned, then shook his head to himself and smiled. "I am glad I will be forgiven," he said, one corner of his mouth tugging up.

McKay gave him another quick once over. "I'm sure we'll run into each other again. I've been warned that even in the country it's not possible to avoid contact entirely."

John snorted.

McKay gave him a look. "Did I say something amusing? I can never tell. Usually it ends not with a smile, but with my sister berating me for being unspeakably rude. For some reason she never berates anyone else for being unbearably boring and stupid." He sighed.

John had to grin. "I'm sure you'll find people here who will find you unspeakably rude."

"But you're not one of them?" McKay asked.

"I most certainly am," John said. "Though for reasons I can't quite understand, I don't feel personally offended," he admitted.

"Maybe it's because you realize that I don't mean to offend," McKay said. "Well, for the most part. Some people deserve to be called any name under the sun."

"I shall take your word for it," John said, bowing slightly.

McKay returned the gesture. "It was surprisingly pleasurable to meet you."

"Likewise," John said with a smirk.

He turned around and left, not bothering to extend formal goodbyes and well-wishes, knowing they wouldn't be missed by his new neighbor.

~~

John was sufficiently happy to be able to take his favorite route again, that he went riding the next morning though it was cloudy and the threat of rain was looming in the sky.

His luck held and the weather kept up, as though it wished not to ruin John's first chance to ride this area since the admiral had died. John smiled as he rode back through the little stream which was only navigable at this point on the admiral's grounds. _McKay's_ he corrected himself.

John's thoughts turned to his new neighbor.

He wasn't sure what to make of him. McKay was rude and didn't seem to realize it. At the same time, he didn't particularly seem to care. He would be the scandal of the county going forward.

John was torn between admiration and fear for his own reputation. He didn't personally see the need for many of the social rules that guided their everyday lives. At the same time, he acknowledged their reality. He'd always been aware of his responsibility to his parents and his family name, then later to his wife and now to his daughter.

He would never do anything to endanger Katherine's future, no matter how hypocritical or uncomfortable he found some laws of society.

The most scandalous thing that John had allowed himself to do was to stop taming his rebellious hair after his wife's death when taking care of his newborn daughter had taken precedence over personal grooming. Even after he'd settled into his new role as a father, he'd hoped that people had gotten used to it. He was sure there was some minor disapproval, but it had started in his need to care for his daughter, and his reputation as a father was impeccable, so he didn't think it would reflect badly on Katherine.

The only other thing that people had reason to gossip about regarding him was the fact that he'd never found a new wife and mother for Katherine. But for every person who voiced concern about that, there was another defending him and praising his dedication to his daughter, so he could very well live with that.

McKay, on the other hand, was the talk of the county, even though John hadn't been directly exposed to much of it. His other neighbor was Lady Sheltonham, who spent her time on her paintings rather than gossip, and with the expectation of McKay throwing a party to introduce himself to his new neighbors, there had been no other formal gatherings since his arrival.

John suspected the tolerance wouldn't last for long once people realized the visitation wouldn't happen. He wondered how many people had called on McKay and been rebuffed by being asked what they wanted from him. There were a few people whom John would have loved to see when George delivered the news.

At heart, John often felt the urge to be as rude as the way that McKay expressed himself. It was refreshing to see someone so honest, though John knew he'd have to thread a fine line between showing disapproval of McKay in acknowledgement of his improper behavior and still showing neighborly respect.

It remained to be seen how much contact he'd have with McKay in any case, since he'd made it obvious that he had no great interest in being part of proper society. All the same, John found himself at least slightly intrigued by the man.

McKay had yet to mention what it was that he was working on. It was regrettable that he didn't seem to enjoy riding. Neither Lady Sheltonham nor the admiral had been riders, and John had hoped to find someone to ride out with in his new neighbor, but apparently it wasn't meant to be.

One day he'd have Katherine to ride out with, but at the moment he was still too fearful of any injury coming to her to allow her to join him. While she loved horses, she was content for now just feeding and grooming them for her father. She might actually be waiting for him in the stables.

John was at the point of crossing the border between McKay's and his own property when he spied the man himself walking towards him from the manor. John turned his horse and rode towards him, stopping at a distance from McKay when he saw terror in his eyes as he stared at the horse.

John dismounted and let the horse graze, walking the last steps to McKay. "Good morning, Mr. McKay," he said.

McKay looked at the grey sky. "I'm not sure it is," he said.

"It has been like this since I left and not a single drop so far," John said, unable to hide a smile at the downward slant of McKay's mouth. "And it appears the day was promising enough to draw you out of the house," he added. He hadn't seen McKay outside even once since he'd moved in.

"Well, after you made a point of asking to use my grounds, I figured I'd take a look at them myself," McKay said.

"You didn't inspect the grounds when you acquired the estate?" John asked, surprised.

"George assured me they are well in order," McKay said. "I don't have much use for the outdoors to be perfectly honest. I have very fair skin."

"Then this weather must be perfect for you," John said with a smirk.

"I'm pleased that my condition is amusing to you," McKay said drily.

"I assure you, I would never want to risk your fair skin," John said. "But the invention of the parasol cannot have escaped your notice."

"And it cannot have escaped _your_ notice that it is not custom for gentle _men_ to carry them," McKay shot back.

"It was my impression that you did not much care about custom," John said.

McKay opened his mouth, but closed it again. Then he smiled. "Touché."

John smiled back. "On a more serious note, large parasols can be helpful in avoiding too much exposure to the sun if no tree is available, while still allowing you a picnic outside."

McKay's eyes suddenly lit up. "Oh, a picnic outside. I hadn't even thought of that possibility."

John gave him an incredulous look.

"The city does not offer much opportunities to eat outside in peace," McKay said.

"I can see that being left in peace is very important to you," John said.

"It was my sole reason for relocating here," McKay said. "There were far too many people in the city who kept calling on me. I never managed to finish anything. It was aggravating."

"And I was the first to call on you here?" John asked.

"You were the first who had an actual reason to talk to me," McKay answered.

John laughed, imagining the brusque denial to other visitors.

McKay gave him a strange look. "You aren't typical of others in the neighborhood, are you?" he asked.

"You'll find that all of us are to some extent unique. Though, I'll admit, some more than others," John said.

"That wasn't what I meant," McKay said.

"I'm afraid you'll have to enlighten me about what you meant," John said.

McKay looked at him for a long moment. "Never mind," he eventually responded and looked past John to his horse. "How many of those do you have?" he asked.

"Not many," John said. "Half a dozen."

"That seems like many to me," McKay said.

"Not in the country," John said. "Would you like to take a look at them?"

McKay looked towards John's house with the stables, then to his own home. "I believe a quick look wouldn't hurt."

John smiled, pleased that McKay would join him. He didn't mount his horse, taking it by the reins instead, keeping himself between the horse and McKay as he led them home.

They talked about horses, and it became clear very quickly to John that McKay didn't know anything about them. Oddly, it didn't bother him. It didn't matter to him that McKay was obviously not interested in learning about the animals, and that his questions were only aimed at satisfying a superficial curiosity about John's interest and history with them.

"Papa!" Katherine came out of the stables, running towards them.

McKay was visibly surprised, and he turned to John as if demanding an explanation. McKay really did not have a great interest in people, it seemed. In John's experience, any new person in the county had known about his history as a widower and father before he'd met them.

"Katherine," John greeted her, stroking her hair. He turned to McKay. "Mr. McKay, this is Katherine, my daughter. Katherine, this is Rodney McKay, our new neighbor."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. McKay," Katherine said politely, curtsying.

"I, uhm, am pleased to meet you too," McKay said, bowing.

"I offered to show Mr. McKay our horses," John explained.

"Do you love horses, Mr. McKay?" Katherine asked. "How many do you own?"

John bit his lip, watching McKay's face as he answered, "None."

"No horses?" Katherine asked, incredulous. "How do you visit anyone?"

"I had hoped to avoid most visits and planned to hire a coach if necessary," McKay said.

Katherine just stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Katherine," John chided her gently.

She snapped her mouth shut. "I am very sorry, Mr. McKay." Then she walked over to the side of John and whispered, "Where do you hire coaches, papa?"

John smiled. "I'm sure Mr. McKay will find a way, although it might surprise him that it is much harder in the country than in the city."

Katherine looked at McKay. "You come from the city?" she asked.

"Yes, I do. And yes, I am aware that it won't be as simple here to hire a coach as it is in the city," McKay added, glaring at John.

"I would gladly offer assistance if you needed it. I can offer a coach or a horse to ride," John said, gesturing towards the stables.

They walked over, and McKay kept a healthy distance between himself and the animals, though he listened when John showed him each horse. "I'm sure they are exceptional animals," McKay said in the end.

John snorted. "I'll take it as a compliment."

McKay only looked at him.

Katherine loudly cleared her throat.

"Yes?" John asked.

"Perhaps Mr. McKay would like something to drink," she said, looking pointedly at John as if she couldn't believe how rude he was being.

It was amusing, considering how little McKay cared about etiquette. Of course, Katherine didn't know that. "Perhaps Mr. McKay wants to return to his home."

"Papa!" Katherine said, scandalized.

John chuckled.

"Your father is quite right," McKay said, smiling. "I hadn't planned to leave my experiment unattended for so long in the first place."

"Your experiment?" Katherine asked with big eyes. John gave her a look even though he was curious himself. "I'm sorry," Katherine said.

"Whatever for?" McKay asked. He shook his head. "I'll never understand what makes people think it's a good idea not to speak their mind."

"I'm sure that if you want us to know about your work, you will tell us," John said.

McKay frowned. "But what does it hurt to ask?"

"You might not wish to answer," John said.

"Why would I ever..." McKay trailed off, looking at John, then dropping his gaze for a moment. "You are correct," he conceded eventually. "There are some questions I might not wish to answer. But I can assure you that I'll happily answer any and all questions related to my work. Though not at this moment," he added, looking at his watch. "I'm afraid I must return."

John bowed and Katherine said, "Thank you for visiting us, Mr. McKay. I hope we shall see you again soon."

"I would enjoy that," McKay said. "Why don't you come over this afternoon for tea?" He looked from Katherine to John.

John was a bit surprised by the invitation. "We'll gladly come," he said.

"Good, good," McKay said. Then he bowed and turned around, making his way back to his manor.

"He seems like a very pleasant gentleman," Katherine said.

To Katherine's consternation John laughed.

~~

John was unsure if McKay would remember his invitation by the time he and Katherine arrived at his home, so when they were greeted by George he said, "Mr. McKay was generous enough to invite us to afternoon tea" instead of assuming they'd be expected.

His instinct turned out to be right. There was a minute flicker of surprise on the butler's face before he smiled. "Of course. Mr. Sheppard, Miss Katherine, if you'll follow me."

Unlike McKay, who'd been surprised that he had a daughter, George seemed to be aware of John's family. John suspected it was George who made it possible for McKay to dedicate himself to his work without completely alienating his social circle.

He almost revised his opinion when they entered the living room, which looked a bit as if it had been ransacked. Books and papers were strewn around with some handwritten notes and schematics among them.

The pained look beneath George's smile told John that if it were up to him, this room would be in a different state.

"Do the lady and gentleman have any particular wishes for tea?" George asked.

"The lady will have a glass of milk," John said. "I'll be happy with anything you have to offer." He really didn't want to trouble the cook any more than necessary, since it was obvious that McKay had not mentioned to his staff that he expected guests.

George nodded. "Mr. McKay has a fondness for baked goods and likes variety. Is there anything in particular you like or dislike? Any fruit, or perhaps chocolate?" he said, looking at Katherine.

Katherine's eyes got big, and John could practically see her vibrating, but she dutifully kept silent. He was quite proud of her. Proud enough to indulge her. "Katherine, I believe you have a favorite," he prompted.

She took a deep breath. "I would very much appreciate chocolate cake if it is no trouble to you," she said modestly.

John grinned fondly at her. George looked at him expectantly. "I am sure everything your cook has to offer will be delicious," John said.

George nodded in acknowledgement. "I will inform Mr. McKay of your arrival."

"Thank you, George," John said.

As soon as he was out of sight, Katherine started wandering around, looking at the largest books that lay about. "Papa, what do you think this is?"

"A map," he said, coming over.

"But there are no roads or countries, nor rivers and seas," she said.

He smiled. "It's a map of the stars."

Her mouth opened in surprise. "The stars," she said reverently, reaching out to touch the map. John cleared his throat before her hand could reach the paper. She pulled back her hand and looked apologetic, before moving on to what appeared to be a model of the solar system.

John contemplated stopping her. It was not proper etiquette to peruse her host's belongings. On the other hand, he had no idea how long they would wait for McKay, and well behaved though she was, Katherine was still a child, who aren't as a rule prone to standing still and waiting patiently.

"What's this?" she asked, pointing at the center of the model.

"The sun," John said.

"Oh, do you think it will move?" she asked.

"I believe it does, but we will certainly not find out because you will _not_ touch it," John said sternly.

She turned to him, pouting, but he gave her a look, telling her without words that she knew very well that he would not be moved. She sighed and walked around the model until something caught her eye in a shelf. "What is this, papa?" she asked.

John came close. It was a metal construct from which two spheres hung suspended by two wires each next to each other. "I'm afraid I do not know," John had to admit.

"Do not know what?" McKay's voice came from the door.

"What this is," John said, turning to him and stepping aside so that he no longer stood in front of the construct.

"Ah, that's a little toy I built. Let me show you," McKay said, walking up to them and taking the toy from the shelf. He set it down on the table in a free spot and lifted one of the spheres to the side. Then he looked at Katherine. "What do you expect will happen when I drop this?" he asked.

She looked to her father who shrugged and smiled. "It will fall," she said.

McKay snorted. "Indeed. But what do you expect will happen?"

"It will fall and hit the other ball," Katherine said.

"And?" McKay asked.

Katherine looked at the toy critically. Then she declared, "It will push the other ball off." She made a motion with her hand illustrating how the ball flew off.

John smiled, but McKay pressed on. "And the original ball?"

"Will stop," Katherine said.

McKay dropped the ball, and as Katherine had predicted, the other ball moved to complete the arc of the first one which had stopped on impact. "Very good. How did you know? Did you guess?"

"It's like marbles, only upwards instead of on the ground," Katherine said.

"You are correct," McKay said approvingly. "Well, obviously there are other influences at play, like gravity, but the momentum and kinetic energy which are conserved are the same."

Katherine frowned. "What subject is that?" she asked.

"Physics," John said.

"When will I learn that?" she asked.

"I can teach you if you want," McKay said. "How much math have you learned so far?"

"I'm afraid not enough for these kinds of physics," John interrupted. "Katherine wanted to know if this model is movable," he quickly went on to the model of the solar system, trying to distract both of them.

"Of course it is," McKay said.

Before he could continue, George arrived with a tray full of pieces of cake as well as tea and a glass of milk for Katherine.

"Ah, wonderful," McKay said, sitting down in front of the table where George had placed the tray on top of some papers almost defiantly.

McKay might not have been the most welcoming host, but his staff was excellent. The cake was delicious, making both McKay and Katherine sigh happily, while John managed to simply relay his congratulations and thanks to the cook.

After finishing their cake, they spent time with the model, and McKay talked about his work in different areas of physics including astronomy. Seeing Katherine's interest, McKay invited her to take the large book with the map of the sky home. John was hesitant to allow it but relented.

Katherine beamed and hugged the book towards her. It was so big that John wasn't sure she'd be able to carry it. "Let me take that until we're home," he said. "We should leave you to your work, Mr. McKay. Thank you very much for your invitation." Katherine cleared her throat. John smiled and added, "And it would be a pleasure for us to welcome you in our home on Friday if you would like to join us for dinner." Katherine looked pleased.

"Oh," McKay said, sounding surprised. "I believe that should be possible."

"Then we'll be expecting you on Friday at six," John said. He looked over at George, who had materialized as they prepared to leave. George nodded in understanding. Even if McKay would forget about the invitation, George would make sure to remind him.

They said their goodbyes, and on the way home John marveled about the fact that his social life seemed to increase with McKay, a man intent on avoiding all unnecessary contact, as his new neighbor. John wasn't sure what about himself and Katherine drew McKay to be so accepting of their presence that he invited it.

Maybe it was simply the fact that they liked him despite his lack of proper decorum. Whatever it was, John didn't question it.

He found that he quite liked being in McKay's presence.

~~

Friday around six, John waited in the living room with Katherine, wondering how to comfort her if McKay didn't show up.

He was sure that George wouldn't forget. In fact, he had sent a note alerting John to the fact that McKay had a severe reaction against citrus fruits just in case. But even if George reminded McKay, it was possible that McKay would ignore him.

"Do you think he might have missed our house?" Katherine asked.

"I'm sure he can find it," John said. "But it could be that one of his experiments delayed his arrival."

"Of course," Katherine said. "That must be it."

John smiled, not wanting to explain to Katherine that McKay might simply not consider their invitation compelling enough to stop whatever he was doing, even if it wasn't particularly urgent.

John was doing his best to equip Katherine with the manners she would need to navigate their social circle. He feared that their relationship with McKay might make it necessary at some point to explain to her that _some_ people didn't consider etiquette as important as he had taught her. He'd have to tell her that McKay wasn't necessarily a bad person for not caring about social mores, while at the same time making sure that she still understood their importance.

For now, he'd be happy to let her believe that McKay had work that required his immediate attention and that he was sorry for being late.

John considered having the food served even without McKay, when finally the man arrived.

"I was in the middle of an... I suppose it doesn't matter," McKay said when John greeted him at the door himself. McKay looked up and down John's suit. In honor of their guest, both he and Katherine had put on more formal clothing.

McKay was better dressed than John had seen him on the previous occasions. Since McKay had scrutinized him so openly, John did the same now. The blue vest he wore underneath his suit brought out his blue eyes. He looked like a real gentleman today.

John smiled approvingly at him.

McKay flushed, his gaze dipping to John's mouth for a second. John frowned since he was pretty sure he had nothing on his face. He let it go and let McKay in.

Katherine came to greet him. "I'm so happy that you could make it."

"Well, yes. George had to drag me away from work, and then he insisted that I couldn't leave the house in my state of dress. Though now that I see the two of you, he might have been right. You both look quite dashing," McKay said, smiling brightly at Katherine, who preened with pride. Then he looked at John with a softened smile that made something in John's stomach flutter, reminding him of the neglected food.

"Let us dine," he said, leading McKay to the dinner table.

~~

Rodney McKay was a smart and interesting man. He loved his work, and his enthusiasm was infectious. John wouldn't be surprised if Katherine was inspired to study physics after further exposure to McKay over the next years.

John liked to listen to him not just because what McKay had to say was interesting, but also because the way he said it often amused John. McKay was frank to a fault, and more than once he'd say something which made Katherine stare open-mouthed. John made a mental note to have a talk with her the next morning and explain that McKay's style of bluntness was not fit for general company, and that his mode of expression showed a familiarity unusual in a new acquaintance.

He hoped it would be effective.

After dinner, Katherine showed McKay a few pages in the book he'd lent her, asking him for explanations or further information.

"If we ever get a clear sky, I can let you use my telescope. The weather has been very unco-operative these last days," McKay said, as if he felt personally insulted.

John smiled. "I'm sure there will be clearer days in summer."

"I don't want to wait until summer," Katherine complained. John gave her a stern look. "I meant that I hope very much that we will not have to wait until summer," she said more demurely.

McKay rolled his eyes, so John gave him a stern look too. He didn't want to have to cut Katherine off from contact with McKay. She seemed to like him, and they didn't have much social contact with other people in the neighborhood. But if McKay proved to be a bad influence on Katherine, John would do everything that he deemed necessary to ensure her proper upbringing.

"I'm hopeful that will be the case," McKay said politely, giving John a pointed look as if to say, "See, I can play along with your silly games."

"I think it is time to go to bed," John said.

Katherine looked incredibly disappointed, and John could see that she wanted to protest, but she only requested, "I had hoped to show Mr. McKay the piano. Do you play any instruments, Mr. McKay?"

John decided he'd let McKay answer, instead of sending Katherine to bed immediately.

"I had played the pianoforte when I was younger, but my teacher said that I didn't have the sensibility to put emotion into my playing," McKay said thoughtfully.

"Impossible," Katherine declared.

John was a bit astounded himself. "I find that hard to believe. I don't think I've ever heard anyone speak with so much passion about what they do."

McKay looked at him, and John felt another flutter in his stomach.

"I'm sure you're wonderful," Katherine said, taking McKay's hand and leading him to the piano in the adjoining room.

"I haven't played for years," McKay protested, and John decided to intervene.

"Katherine, if Mr. McKay prefers not to play, we should not ask it of him, should we?" he asked gently.

"No, we shouldn't. I'm sorry, Mr. McKay," Katherine said.

"Maybe another time," McKay said. "Do you play?" he asked, looking at her then at John.

John shook his head.

"I have started playing," Katherine said. "My mother used to play," she added, looking at John.

"That is correct," John confirmed. "This was my wife's piano. She loved to play." For a moment, John was lost in memories of soft music filling the room.

"She died?" McKay asked.

"When I was born," Katherine told him. John stroked her hair.

"It must have been a great loss to you," McKay said.

John only nodded in acknowledgement. In many ways it felt as if he'd been married in another life. The moment his daughter had been born, she'd become the focus of his life, much more than her mother ever had been.

"Maybe _you_ would like to play something?" McKay suggested.

John winced inwardly. Katherine had only just started playing, and so far her mother's talent hadn't manifested itself. It would probably be kinder to all of them if he simply sent her to bed now, but she looked so hopeful when she asked to play one song that he allowed it.

What she lacked in talent and proficiency, she made up for in volume and enthusiasm.

McKay's eyes widened, and he exchanged a look with John but didn't say anything.

When Katherine had finished, looking at him expectantly, McKay's comment was, "Well, that was...loud."

John couldn't help a snicker. Katherine deflated. "I know I'm not very good yet."

"With practice, I'm certain you'll improve," McKay said.

Katherine beamed at that, and John gave him a grateful smile. "Now it really is time for bed, young lady."

"Yes, papa," she agreed. "Goodbye, Mr. McKay. I hope to see you very soon."

"I'm sure we will. Goodnight, milady." McKay bowed and Katherine giggled, curtsying before leaving them.

McKay watched her go then looked at John. There was something in his gaze that John couldn't read. "I should depart," McKay said.

"You could stay. We could have a brandy," John suggested.

McKay gave him another long look, and John couldn't help feeling that his scrutiny implied a question that he did not want to ask. John had no idea what that question might be. "I really should depart," McKay repeated eventually. "Maybe another time."

John nodded in acceptance and led McKay to the door. "I'm glad you could come."

"It was a pleasure," McKay said. His gaze flicked to John's mouth again. "I hope to see you soon," McKay added, and to John it sounded like sincerity and not the usual social niceties.

"I hope so as well," John said. He felt a pleasant tremor at McKay's smile.

McKay bowed and left. John watched him depart. When McKay turned, he waved once more before finally closing the door.

Before going upstairs to check on Katherine, John stood still for a moment, examining the strange feeling which had built in him over the evening. He couldn't identify it, but it didn't feel unpleasant—quite the contrary—so he attributed it to satisfaction from a successful meal even though he couldn't remember feeling like this whenever they'd had guests before.

There was something about McKay which defied logic and description. But it still left a smile on John's face as he went upstairs to turn in for the night.

~~

They did see each other again soon. In fact, from then on they traded regular visits.

McKay would show them his model of the solar system and some of his experiments when they were guests in his home. Even though John told him that Katherine was too young for formal physics training, he would show her natural phenomena and stir her interest in the subject.

One clear night, John went over with Katherine so that they could take a look at the night sky through McKay's telescope. It was fascinating for both Katherine and John, and the next day John visited McKay alone to thank him. McKay explained some more of the background of what they'd seen and his work.

John had studied math at university, but since he had taken on care of the estates of the family, he only worked with numbers in the most basic ways. Looking at McKay's notes reminded him how much he'd enjoyed math at university, and the look on McKay's face when John suggested a quicker way to resolve a formula was priceless.

McKay peppered him with questions about his education and gave John some calculations he hadn't finished yet. They worked in tandem, looking at each other every now and then, and when McKay reviewed his work and lit up in the end, John felt that now familiar flutter in his stomach which spending time with McKay inspired.

McKay asked him if he wanted to help him with the math part of his research, and John agreed without thinking about it. It was an opportunity to put his math skills to use _and_ help someone he'd grown to respect and like a lot. The fact that it also gave him a good excuse to spend time with McKay was icing on the cake.

Katherine was determined to see that the visits did not become one-sided, so McKay often visited them, and after a few visits he took them up on the offer to use their piano.

The teacher who had attested that McKay had no passion had no taste or no feeling, or else McKay had changed fundamentally since he was a child. Even though he apologized for his uncertainty as he started playing, John only heard the beauty of the music.

McKay played with power and complexity. There were sometimes vast jumps in tempo and volume and general mood, but it seemed to fit into one coherent message nonetheless. It was different from the way his wife had played, but no less touching to John, who'd always felt that her music had been a mirror of his wife's personality. He felt the same about McKay now, and he did not tire of hearing him play.

Of course, John still had other social commitments. Mrs. Black made a point of visiting everyone in the neighborhood regularly. She not only knew everyone, but she also knew everything about them. In short, she was the center of gossip, and there was no avoiding her.

After lamenting that it had been far too long since they'd seen each other, Mrs. Black immediately got to what had to be the reason for her visit. "Mr. McKay seems to be quite the reclusive," she said.

"I do not think so," Katherine politely disagreed. "He visits us almost every other day."

"Indeed?" Mrs. Black asked. "So far nobody I've talked to has even seen him. He is like a phantom as far as I can tell. Mr. Stephenson has tried to call on him _twice_ , but Mr. McKay did not receive him." Her disapproval was evident in her voice, even if she chose not to state it.

"Mr. McKay sometimes runs time sensitive experiments that do not permit his absence for even a moment," John tried to explain.

"Certainly he does not run these 'experiments' all the time?" Mrs. Black asked.

"Not all the time," John agreed. "And he's kind enough to share a moment with us if he finds himself free."

"That is very kind of him indeed," Mrs. Black said. "But don't you think it would only be fair to share his presence with others as well? How are we to welcome him if he doesn't even show himself?"

Katherine and John only exchanged a look. It was, of course, out of the question to tell Mrs. Black that McKay had no desire to be welcomed by her and others like her.

"But I am glad to hear that you are so closely acquainted with him," Mrs. Black went on.

John wasn't sure where the discussion was going, but he was slightly wary of it. "I wouldn't necessarily say we are very close. We are direct neighbors after all, so it is only natural that we should see each other frequently."

"How _is_ Lady Sheltonham?" Mrs. Black said, smiling pointedly at John. She was, of course, aware that the Sheppards did not see their female neighbor nearly as often as McKay.

"Very well," John still said. "Spring is her favorite time of year. She finds it very inspirational."

Mrs. Black smiled falsely and pressed her point. "Do you not find Mr. McKay's behavior eccentric?"

"He is an unusual gentleman, but he's always been generous to us, so I would not care to find fault with him," John said.

"Of course you wouldn't," Mrs. Black said. "I've never heard you talk ill of anyone," she added with a sigh of frustration.

John had to bite his lip to keep from smirking at that.

"But he _must_ like you if he visits you as often as you say," Mrs. Black continued.

"I do not feel that I can speak for him," John said politely.

"I'm sure of it," Mrs. Black said in a voice that brooked no argument. "So _you_ will have to invite him to my next party."

John was too stunned to respond for a moment. 

"You are throwing a party?" Katherine asked, buying him some time.

"Yes, I am," Mrs. Black said. "Since Mr. McKay seems unwilling or unable to introduce himself properly, it falls upon others to give him occasion to do so."

Whether he wants to or not, John thought to himself. "I could not accept an invitation from you on behalf of Mr. McKay, you must understand," he said out loud.

"Of course," Mrs. Black said. "But I'm sure you'll be able to persuade him." She smiled, but it felt almost threatening to John.

He only nodded politely, wondering how his chances were to get out of this situation with his reputation _and_ McKay's friendship intact.

~~

John decided to broach the subject when he visited McKay the next day. It would be better to have McKay's answer before Mrs. Black made bold to move forward with her plans.

There was really no good way to ease McKay into the subject, so John said, "Mrs. Black visited us yesterday. She has noticed that you have not had the leisure to host a party, so she wants to throw one in your honor to introduce you to your neighbors."

McKay glanced up from the paper he was scribbling on. "I thought we were quite well acquainted by now, and we didn't need anyone to introduce us to each other."

Surely, John thought, McKay was not so blind to social convention as to miss the import of his words, but John explained anyway because he needed a response. "But others have not been so fortunate as to make your acquaintance."

"I don't know why they would consider themselves unfortunate if we have not met. Ask my sister, and you'll hear story upon story of people who regret making my acquaintance," McKay said.

"People are curious about their new neighbor. You are like for them what an elusive physics problem is to you," John tried.

McKay looked up and gave him a look that clearly said that John should know better than to try to bait him like this. "Remind me who wishes to throw this party?"

"Mrs. Christopher Black. She is...quite influential," John decided on saying. "I think I've heard her describe herself as quite the heart of the county."

"And how would _you_ describe her?" McKay asked.

"I'm not sure there are words to do her justice," John said politely.

"I see," McKay said. "I think if she invites me, I will have to politely decline."

John made a face. He had feared this.

"Don't tell me you are surprised," McKay said. "If I had wanted to be introduced at a party, I would have thrown one myself. Believe me, George would be ecstatic if I allowed him to organize a ball."

"I'm not surprised," John said.

"You certainly look dissatisfied. What is it to you if I visit a party? We see each other almost every day," McKay pointed out. He frowned, "Or was there a reason you wanted me to go?"

"I'm disappointed on behalf of Mrs. Black. She asked me to invite you in the hope that our...acquaintance might be persuasive enough to accept her generous offer," John said.

McKay gave him a long look, then his shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Am I correct in assuming that her disappointment would reflect badly on you?" he asked.

"I imagine it might," John said, carefully hopeful.

"The things I do for—" McKay muttered.

"You'll come?" John asked, openly optimistic now.

"I don't want anyone to think that I am a horrible influence on you and your daughter," McKay said.

"Even though you are," John said, smirking.

McKay smiled. "I'm only doing this for you and Katherine," he said.

"I appreciate it very much, Mr. McKay. I do know how little you care about social events of that kind," John said.

"At least tell me that it will earn you some grace from the influential Mrs. Black," McKay said.

"She'll be very pleased, I'm sure," John said.

"Then I suppose I will survive the ordeal," McKay said, making John laugh. "Since you are responsible for the inconvenience, I hope I can count on you to convey me in your carriage at the very least."

"It will be a great pleasure to do so," John said.

McKay gave him a look that John couldn't read, but it made him feel warm inside.

~~

Mrs. Black was indeed ecstatic at the news that McKay would come to her party. John suspected that many had given up on ever formally meeting McKay, and for her to be able to present him to everyone gave solidity to her reputation of being the most socially powerful person among them.

McKay was ready by the time John arrived in the carriage. He was neatly dressed but in a sour mood, and they sat in silence until McKay broke it to ask about Mrs. Black and the local giants who were expected at the party.

For all his unwillingness to conform to social niceties, McKay seemed to be at least aware of them to a certain degree. If he weren't, he wouldn't have recognized John's plight in the first place, John supposed. So he gave McKay a brief overview over the most well-placed families in the county and how they were connected.

Mrs. Black was very smug when they entered the large living room of her home. People stopped talking and looked at them.

"Mr. Sheppard," she said loud enough for everyone to hear. "And you must be _Mr. McKay_."

"Mrs. Black, thank you so much for your invitation," John said, bowing.

McKay bowed as well. "It was kind of you to think of me although we haven't made each other's acquaintance."

John was sure it was meant as an accusation, but Mrs. Black smiled, pleased. "You are very welcome. I take it upon myself to make sure that we all have a chance to know each other better. If you'll come with me? There are many here who look forward to meeting you." She unceremoniously took McKay's arm and led him away. McKay looked back at John helplessly, before being forced to turn to where he was being led.

John felt for McKay's discomfort, but there was no escaping the inevitable. After his neighbors had met the reclusive McKay, perhaps they would not be so eager to see him again. For some reason, John liked to think that he was especially equipped to appreciate McKay. He wasn't keen to share McKay with others.

Which was a rather odd thing, John realized. He'd never been very keen on socializing before he met McKay. In fact, he rarely lingered at parties, and the only conversations he really enjoyed were the ones about horses. He scanned the room for someone to have one with, now that McKay was in the grasp of Mrs. Black and not likely to be released any time soon.

~~

"We must leave," McKay told him earnestly after having pulled John aside.

One look at McKay convinced John that McKay was at the end of his rope, so he nodded. "I should make my farewells," John said, but McKay shook his head.

"Now," he said firmly.

After a moment's hesitation, John nodded again. For his utility in bringing McKay to them, John thought, his neighbors would no doubt forgive him the rudeness of leaving without a proper farewell. He could write a note of thanks in the morning.

Once in the carriage, John couldn't help but wonder at how distressed McKay looked. "Was it so bad?" he asked. He knew that McKay would not find enjoyment in the usual inane niceties but his reaction seemed extreme.

"It was worse," McKay said. "I had expected the idle chatter. I had even feared question about my marital status, but I had not expected her to go so far as to try to change it on the same evening!"

John winced. "Yes, Mrs. Black does fancy herself a matchmaker."

"And you couldn't have warned me beforehand?" McKay asked.

"It's been a while since I was at the receiving end of her efforts," John said.

"She's tried it with you too?" McKay asked. "That should have shown her that there was no point in trying after I told her I wasn't looking for a wife."

"You told her that?" John asked, eyebrows rising.

"Not those exact words," McKay said. "What did you have to do to make her stop?"

"I married," John said simply.

McKay stared at him. "I'm not going to marry just to get rid of them!"

"It doesn't have to be just for that," John said, amused. He certainly hadn't married _only_ because of Mrs. Black—and others'—well-meaning insistence, and he couldn't imagine anyone doing so.

"I do not plan to marry at all," McKay said.

John was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. "Why?" he asked.

McKay gave him a long look. "I have yet to meet a woman who I wish to spend the rest of my life with."

John frowned. "I'm sure there are women that will fulfill even what _you_ require for stimulating conversation," he said. "They might be the fairer sex, but it does not mean they may not possess wit and intellect."

"Please," McKay said dismissively. "My sister's husband doesn't possess a fraction of her intellect. It is not that I disdain the fairer sex." McKay hesitated a second, then went on, "But I have yet to feel the passion of a young lover for one."

John thought about that for a moment. He'd read the poetry, of course, describing the overwhelming passion and pain of love. But he hadn't thought they were meant to be taken literally. "Is this a requirement of marriage?" he asked honestly.

"It wasn't for you?" McKay asked.

"Katherine was a kind, gentle soul," John said. At McKay's puzzled look, he explained, "I named our daughter after her when she died during her birth." Before McKay could feel the need to express his sympathy again, John went on. "I felt a great fondness for her, but not the passion one reads about in books. Perhaps this is how such things are done in the city?" John guessed. Cities were often first to adopt modern ideas and social change.

Instead of answering, McKay gave John a long look, as if trying to look inside him. He had no idea what McKay expected to find, but it made John feel hot suddenly, even though the night outside was quite chilly. The carriage suddenly felt smaller, and John realized that their feet were almost touching. He absurdly imagined McKay reaching out and touching John's face. The thought made him feel the by now accustomed flutter in his stomach.

They didn't speak for the rest of the ride home, but John still felt the eloquence of the silence between them. It was as if each breath they took said something in a language he couldn't understand. It was very confusing.

Eventually they stopped in front of McKay's home. "Thank you for taking me," McKay said.

"I should apologize," John said, remembering how badly the evening had ended for McKay.

But McKay only said, "You rescued me," as if it undid all the discomfort John had caused. "Goodnight." After a moment, he added, "John."

John couldn't help the happy flush at hearing McKay use his first name. It was more than forgiveness. It might even be more than etiquette demanded between two neighbors who had only met such a short time ago, but he couldn't deny that he liked the familiarity it implied. It seemed to be appropriate if not by social norms, then by how fast they'd become so closely acquainted. It felt like it was time to call McKay a friend. No, no longer McKay. "Goodnight, Rodney."

McKay gave him another long look, though it had gotten so dark that John couldn't clearly see his face. For a second it seemed that Rodney's eyes dipped to his mouth.

Then he got up and stepped out of the carriage.

~~

The next morning, John couldn't help thinking back to the previous evening. He should have known how eagerly Mrs. Black would latch onto a bachelor, even of questionable reputation. And McKay did know how to behave if he had to and looked quite dapper in the finery George had made him wear.

There was no stopping Mrs. Black and her ilk if they thought they could facilitate an engagement. He'd only managed to escape a resurgence of their efforts some time after his wife's death by letting them believe that he was heartbroken about losing her. John froze as an idea occurred to him.

He immediately went to inform McKay—Rodney—of his idea, not even stopping to have breakfast first.

Rodney was up already and downstairs, presumably to eat.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," John said, "But I might have a solution to your problem."

"My problem?" Rodney said, sounding a bit wary.

"With your permission I could circulate the rumor that your heart is broken," John said.

McKay's eyes lit up in understanding. Then he frowned doubtfully, "Will that work?" he asked.

"If I insist it's a secret," John said, just a bit gleeful.

"I am a bad influence on you," McKay said, smirking proudly.

"Yes," John confirmed, grinning back at him.

"How long will that continue to work?" McKay asked.

"We'll simply need to be firm that you're not ready to move on," John said. "They'll give up eventually if you give them no reason to believe you're interested in finding a wife."

"Is that what you did?" McKay asked.

"I'm very satisfied taking care of Katherine," John said. It wasn't even a lie.

"And you never felt passionate about anyone since your wife died?" McKay asked. He gave John that look again, that made John feel like McKay was looking inside of him.

"I'm not a passionate man in that regard," John said. He felt the flutter in his stomach again.

"I find that hard to believe," McKay said.

John felt unaccountably pleased that McKay considered him capable of passion. "Maybe our passions lie elsewhere," he allowed. He did love riding to distraction, and knew that McKay was obsessed with his work.

"I believe they do," Rodney said, giving John an intense look.

The flutter in John's stomach intensified, and he felt as if the room had turned a few degrees hotter since they'd started the conversation. He didn't know what to say.

"Would you like to join me for breakfast?" Rodney asked, touching John's arm for a moment.

"I'd love to," John said, missing McKay's touch as soon as they parted.

~~

On the first really sunny spring day John took the opportunity to invite Rodney, Mrs. Black, and Lady Sheltonham to a picnic.

When Mrs. Black asked if McKay and Lady Sheltonham had met before and looked meaningfully at them, John immediately took the opportunity to tell her, "They have not, as far as I know. Mr. McKay keeps himself somewhat secluded, as you know."

"I certainly do," Mrs. Black said. "But it is not good for a man to be alone."

"Certainly not. But some of us have been so unfortunate as to...to lose what we held most precious," John said, averting his gaze and looking as tragic as he possibly could.

Mrs. Black gasped and said, "You mean...he lost the woman he intended to marry?"

"I should not have spoken," John said, shaking his head.

"Oh, Mr. Sheppard, I'm so sorry," she said, stroking his arm in sympathy. "Mr. McKay's fate must have reminded you of your own tragic loss."

"You'll understand that I am not at liberty to discuss the matter with you, but I felt that you should know that the closeness of our circumstances convinces me that nothing could be further from his mind at the moment than finding a wife."

"Of course I understand. It is only natural. Poor, poor Mr. McKay," Mrs. Black said.

"You are most kind," John said.

"I can only imagine how terrible he must feel," Mrs. Black said. "I wish there was something I could do for him."

"I think he requires only to be left in peace," John said. "And I beg of you not to relay my indiscretion to him. I wouldn't have wanted to betray his confidence, but I know his secret is safe with you and that he can count on your compassion even if he will never know it."

"Of course, Mr. Sheppard. I feel honored that you trusted me in this," Mrs. Black said.

John smiled gratefully at her. "I should see what Katherine is doing." He nodded at Mrs. Black and went to where Katherine was picking some flowers.

"Very nice," he commented when she proudly showed him what she'd gathered so far.

He looked over to Mrs. Black, who was already speaking rapidly to Lady Sheltonham and no doubt telling her the details of Rodney's broken heart. John walked to where McKay sat on a blanket, eating from the basket that George had prepared for him.

John lay down on the blanket. "For the time being, you should be safe from any attempts at matchmaking," he said.

McKay looked up at Mrs. Black and Lady Sheltonham, who both waved at him with matching sympathetic looks. McKay turned to John. "What exactly did you tell her?"

"I didn't tell her anything 'exactly'. I did heavily imply that you lost a woman you were disposed to marry. So do not be surprised if someone expresses their sympathy to you in the near future," John said. He picked up an apple from the basket and took a hearty bite.

"Thank you," McKay said.

"You're welcome," John said. "It's the least I can do after forcing you to attend her party. And I should thank you. I don't think I've ever been held in higher regard by Mrs. Black than right now."

"Not into gossiping, were you?" McKay said with a smirk.

"Not until now," John said, grinning at McKay. It was a wonderful day out. Katherine walked from flower to flower, only picking the best. The food was fresh and excellent, and the sky was clear and blue. He'd always loved the sky. There was something about the vastness of it that called to John. McKay had told him that he was certain that one day man would cross the sky as effortlessly as the sea. John was skeptical, but he certainly liked to imagine it. A carriage, dragged by Pegasus instead of horses. Or perhaps having wings himself and being completely free of the ground. He smiled at the idea. "Breathtaking," he whispered.

"Yes," McKay said.

John turned to him. He hadn't expected to be heard. When he looked at McKay, he found him not looking at the sky or even the landscape. Instead his gaze was fixed on John.

John flushed, McKay's gaze warming him at least as much as the sun.

~~

Soon after their little outing, the success of John's plan to keep McKay free of matchmakers' attempts was further confirmed by a chance meeting with Mrs. Conrad.

After greeting John, Mrs. Conrad quickly turned the conversation to Mrs. Black's party. "I regretted that we were unable to attend. Caroline would have loved to meet Mr. McKay. It is exceedingly unfortunate that he is not looking for a wife." She seemed resigned.

John tried to hide his glee beneath a look of intelligent sympathy. Mrs. Conrad's daughter, Caroline, was not known for her beauty, and unlike other young ladies, she did not make up for what she lacked in appearance with her character or intelligence. Since the Conrads were not well-provided, Mr. and Mrs. Conrad had diminished expectations of Caroline's future husband. McKay's social reputation would be of no concern to them if he were the means of providing security for their daughter.

If Mrs. Conrad accepted John's less than truthful implications, McKay was certainly safe in the near future.

John immediately rode back to tell Rodney the good news.

"Congratulations," John said as soon as George showed him into McKay's study and laboratory.

McKay turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

"The mother of the most ineligible daughter in the county has expressed her sadness over the fact that you aren't looking for a wife," John proudly told him.

McKay smiled and he got up to join John. "You seem almost as happy about it as I am," McKay commented.

"I seem to have a certain amount of mischief in me which has been unexpressed in my life so far," John said with a smirk.

McKay smiled indulgently at him. Then his expression became more sincere. "Thank you," he said, putting his hand on John's arm.

"You are most welcome," John said. He felt an inexplicable urge to cup Rodney's face.

They stood like that for a long moment. Rodney didn't remove his hand from John's arm.

"I mean it. You don't have to thank me. The pleasure was mine," John said.

"I _do_ have to thank you," Rodney said seriously. His hand remained steady on John's arm, warming John even through his jacket. "I expected that the price for a certain amount of peace would be loneliness, but because of you I have not been asked to pay. You've done so much for me." He stepped a bit closer to John, swallowing. "I don't think you have any idea what you do to me."

John frowned, uncertain about the meaning behind Rodney's words. The flutter in his stomach flared up.

Rodney slowly moved the hand on John's arm further down.

"I... I'm afraid, I don't understand what you're trying to say," John said, feeling confused and just a bit breathless.

"Believe me, I'm aware of that," Rodney said, sounding bittersweet. His hand finally reached John's. He clasped it and lifted it to his lips.

When Rodney kissed the back of John's hand, John gasped and stepped back, pulling his hand from McKay's grasp. "I... You..." John stuttered, shocked by what had happened.

McKay attempted to close the distance between them, but John stepped further back.

"Have you ever been kissed by a man?" McKay asked, his voice softer than usual.

"Of course not," John said without thinking. "I'm not..." He couldn't even put it into words.

"Are you sure?" McKay asked.

"Yes, I am!" John said firmly. He turned to go, but McKay tried to stop him.

"John, please don't go. I know this is new to you, but—"

"I have to go, Mr. McKay," John insisted. He bowed formally.

"John, please." The entreaty in McKay's voice was impossible to bear.

"Goodbye," John said with finality in his voice. Before McKay could say anything further, he rushed to the door and fled.

~~

Once home, John retreated into his study, glad that Katherine was still studying with her tutor.

He still couldn't grasp what had happened. It had never occurred to him that McKay could have such unnatural desires. It was unfathomable to John.

He looked back on their relationship, remembering a lingering touch here and an intense look there. But how was John to know what it meant? How could McKay expect...

Except, he didn't. Recalling McKay's words, it seemed that he was aware that John had not the faintest idea of McKay's feelings. But still he thought that if he made John aware of them, John would...

No! He would not. John could not even imagine... As he thought those words, a flash of Rodney's lips on his went through his mind. John violently shook his head.

No, he wouldn't. He couldn't. Even if he wanted it—the beating of his heart at even the thought of kissing McKay scared him—he could never engage in a dalliance which could mean the loss of his reputation and ultimately the life he had built for himself.

If not for himself, then certainly for Katherine.

~~

John managed to hide his turmoil at lunch. When Katherine asked if they would visit McKay that afternoon, John told her that he believed he would be too busy today to receive them.

Of course, he could not lie to her forever. If he broke off all contact with McKay, Katherine would demand an explanation. And if he didn't, he'd have to face McKay, and he wasn't sure what would happen. He did not trust his own reaction to McKay's presence, nor could he trust McKay after what had happened that morning.

The decision was taken out of his hands when McKay visited them that afternoon and Katherine welcomed him before John could stop her.

John remained polite, but kept a distance from McKay, who thankfully did not behave out of the ordinary in front of Katherine, only looking at John with sadness in his eyes.

As was often the case when McKay visited them, they went into the music room, and McKay played the piano for them.

After the first few times, in which McKay's lack of practice had been noticeable, McKay had become very confident at the piano. He'd mentioned thinking about having his old pianoforte sent for. John wasn't sure if he had ever done it, but he had been impressed with McKay's talent at the piano.

Today, though, McKay played with uncertainty. The melody was unfamiliar to John. It was haunting, yet beautiful. John knew the reason for McKay's sadness all too well and it pained him to have caused it. At the same time, he wished that McKay had not confronted him. He should have known that for John to return his feelings was impossible.

"Beautiful," Katherine said when McKay stopped playing. "What was it? I haven't heard it before."

"I wrote it myself," McKay said. John's breath caught, his heart twisting at the thought that he hadn't just inspired the choice of music, but the melody itself. "It is a love song," McKay added, only quickly glancing at John before looking at Katherine again. John dropped his gaze and swallowed.

"A love song?" Katherine asked. "But it sounds so sad." She lowered her voice and whispered, "Does she not love you back?"

McKay looked at John.

"Katherine," John said softly. "Matters of the heart are very personal. You should not pry."

"I'm sorry," Katherine said.

"I'm sure Mr. McKay is very busy. We don't want to keep him too long," John said, holding his breath to see if McKay would contradict him.

McKay looked at him and eventually nodded. John released his breath in relief. "Will you come over tomorrow?" McKay asked hopefully, looking at Katherine to include her in the invitation.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to make it," John said. He needed time to process what had happened and come to a decision on how to deal with it. "We'll be leaving to visit my brother, David."

"But it's not even June," Katherine said. They usually visited his brother in summer, so her consternation was quite understandable.

"You always enjoy seeing your cousins, don't you?" John said, instead of addressing the timing of their visit.

"I do," Katherine said, but she was still bewildered. Then she turned to McKay. "Will Mr. McKay come?" she asked, looking from him to John.

"You know as well as I do that he couldn't leave work for so long," John said quickly. "Am I not correct?" he added, looking at McKay.

"I'm afraid I could not," McKay said, resigned.

John forced himself not to put his hand on McKay's arm to console him even though it was his instinct to do so.

He definitely needed some time away from McKay.

~~

The first week at his brother's estate was filled with blissful distraction. There were frequent visitors, and John met with his brother in matters of the family estates. With business disposed of, he took out the horses, reacquainting himself with the different but no less beautiful meadows and hills surrounding his brother's estate.

But soon John found himself thinking about McKay. He still didn't know what to do upon their return. He wasn't sure what would happen if they were alone again. Even if he still visited and received McKay in Katherine's presence, she would notice if John no longer told her about how he'd assisted McKay with one of his experiments in their private meetings.

More than just the frustration of being unable to explain himself to Katherine, he _missed_ McKay. The matter was only compounded by the fact that his daughter obviously felt the same. Hardly a day went by in which she did not mention him when she told her cousins one story or another.

McKay had become such an important part of their lives that it felt unnatural not to see him for so long.

"Perhaps Mr. McKay could visit us some day," Charlotte, David's wife, suggested one day after Katherine told them about the special kite McKay had built on a windy weekend.

"No," John said immediately. Everyone in the room looked at him. "I'm afraid he's too busy," John added more gently. "I would, of course, have thought to ask him to join us otherwise." He smiled, hoping they wouldn't read anything into his vehement reaction.

Charlotte only smiled politely at him. "I'm sure you would have."

This was one of the problems John faced. He reacted to McKay in ways that were unpredictable. He'd never been one to forge fast and easy friendships. He'd been perfectly happy with acquaintances and his family, but being with McKay... He could not even find the right word for how he felt when he was with him.

He was happier and more free. McKay's habitual refusal to follow proper etiquette released John of the burden of being restrained and well-mannered, something he hadn't even consciously thought of as a burden until he'd met McKay. McKay was rude, but in turn he didn't mind rudeness in others. He was honest and enthusiastic. He was amazingly full of life, so much so that John felt more alive for being close to him.

It felt so good that John did not trust himself around McKay, now that he knew of his feelings. And he didn't trust McKay either. The proper thing for McKay to do would have been to keep his feelings repressed and not share them with John.

But McKay didn't care to be proper as long as he believed he was right. And the terrifying thing was that McKay had obviously believed there was a chance that John would be receptive to his advances. John didn't imagine he would have acted on his feelings if he didn't see that chance.

What John didn't understand was _how_ McKay came to that conclusion. John might have let a few niceties fall by the wayside in McKay's presence, but the most inappropriate thing that had occurred between them was calling each other by their forenames after such a short time.

But certainly that alone could not have led McKay to believe that John... John tried not to think too much about what McKay had hoped would happen after confessing his feelings. He'd replayed the moment when McKay's lips had touched the back of his hand numerous times in his head, unable to stop it. Worse, he sometimes imagined what could have happened if he hadn't left.

He tried not to indulge in any such fantasies, but despite all attempts to the contrary he had imagined McKay's lips not on his hand but on his own mouth on several occasions. The image terrified him because what he felt about the image in his mind's eye was not disgust or even discomfort, but a warmth in his heart and the familiar flutter in his stomach.

John shied from what those feelings meant. Instead, he focused on the decision he had to make, between no longer seeing McKay and continuing their friendship in the hopes that McKay would be satisfied with that friendship.

~~

It happened in the course of his third week at his brother's home. The whole family sat in the living room, with the girls playing near the fireplace and John reading and occasionally scanning the room. David and Charlotte sat on the sofa together, talking quietly while Charlotte did some needlework.

When John looked up once more, he caught his brother clasping his wife's hand and lifting it to his mouth—a perfect mirror image to what McKay had done. Perfect, except for the reaction, for Charlotte smiled and gently stroked her husband's face with her fingers where John had pulled away in fear.

His heart beat wildly in his chest. His refusal to examine his feelings came crashing down as he recognized the gesture—and not just this one, but many others.

John might never have done anything overtly inappropriate with McKay, but he now realized that they'd been wooing each other since they'd met.

"A love song," McKay had called it. John had not wanted to consider those words. He'd always discounted the flowery words of the great authors, which resembled no reality that John knew.

But what else was the warmth in his heart and the flutter in his stomach if not the basic, simple, and yet so powerful emotion?

He was drawn to McKay, his mind, his wit, and his humor, but also his physical presence. The turmoil he felt at McKay's revelation was only a reflection of the passion John already felt. A passion for life, but also... John's mind turned back to the kiss that never was.

He wanted it, longed for it. It might be impossible, but John could no longer deny that it existed and that it was love.

It did not, _could_ not change the choices that he had, but John felt a little lighter acknowledging the truth instead of refusing to face it.

~~

It was Katherine who asked when they would return home. She loved her cousins and uncle and aunt, but she missed her home with her books, her toys, the horses, and Rodney.

John knew all too well how she felt. It was worse for him. The intensity of his longing made him decide that he wanted to spend as much time with Rodney as he could. He only hoped that Rodney could accept that John was unable to risk Katherine's future and wouldn't overstep. 

Their friendship was important enough to John that he hoped they could continue to find satisfaction in it, and that it would suffice them.

John was excited on the way home, looking forward to returning to his regular life—and to Rodney. When Katherine insisted they visit to give Rodney his gifts right upon their return, even though they were quite tired, John allowed it. He too needed to see Rodney again.

George welcomed them back, visibly happy to see them, and went upstairs to inform McKay of their arrival. Before he reached the top of the stairs, however, McKay already arrived, slightly out of breath. He looked down at them as if he had lost hope of seeing them again.

John's heart skipped a beat. This was what it was like to return to your love after a few weeks' absence.

McKay rushed down the stairs to them. "I am really pleased to see that you've returned. When did you arrive?"

"Just now," John admitted. "We are quite tired, but Katherine wanted to give you something."

The light in McKay's eyes dimmed, but he turned to Katherine and smiled stiffly. John wanted to reach out and reassure him that it wasn't merely Katherine who had brought them here, and that they'd see each other again in private, but it wasn't the right time.

Katherine gave him the gifts she'd selected for him. McKay accepted most of them politely, though he genuinely seemed to like the warmer designed to keep beverages hot.

Katherine was excited to see their neighbor, but could not contain a yawn once McKay had opened all his presents.

"It's really time for us to turn in," John said, stroking her hair.

"Of course," McKay said. "You must be tired from the journey. I'll look forward to greeting you for whatever meal is appropriate when you're rested enough to join me," he added, looking at John hopefully.

"I hope a full night's sleep will be enough," John said, smiling at him.

McKay beamed. "I'll be happy to have you join me at your earliest convenience."

John nodded and they said their goodbyes.

Katherine retired after a quick dinner, but John felt restless despite their long journey. He visited the horses and couldn't help glancing in the direction of McKay's home when he walked back to the house, but did not cross to it.

He was determined to be fully awake when he talked to Rodney. He needed to have his wits about him for their next private meeting, so John retired as well and eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

He was up early the next morning and ran into Katherine who was excited to take up her regular studies again. She also asked when they'd visit McKay, and John suggested they visit him that afternoon for tea. 

Katherine seemed pleased by that, and they finished breakfast, talking about what McKay might have to show them, and which subject she looked forward to the most.

Immediately after breakfast, John went by himself to meet McKay, his heart beating faster at the thought of being alone with him. 

He hoped that McKay would understand that they could only be friends, but he wasn't really sure how honest he should be. He didn't want to give him false hope, while at the same time he wished he could tell him how he felt. John remembered the sad love song McKay had composed and wished there was something he was able to do to take that pain away.

After George ushered John to McKay's study, John entered, vividly remembering the last time he'd been here.

McKay noticed him and stood up at once. He stepped closer, but kept a formal distance between them, which John counted as a good sign.

"I apologize for my presumptuousness," McKay said, his mind obviously also still on the incident that had made John flee to his brother. "It was not my place to tell you how you feel, no matter how certain of it I am."

John was relieved that McKay wasn't going to push the issue. "I must apologize as well," he allowed. At McKay's look, he added, "I never meant to cause you pain."

McKay deflated. "I know. It's not your fault that you feel the way you do."

"It doesn't really matter how I feel," John said. It mattered the world to him, but in terms of their future, it couldn't matter.

McKay disagreed. "It does matter," he said.

"We cannot..." John trailed off. "You have to understand that I couldn't take the risk to—"

"I know," McKay interrupted him. "I would never do anything that could put your position, or Katherine's at risk."

John smiled at the earnestness in McKay's voice. "We missed you."

"I've missed you too. It was lonely here without you," McKay said.

"I'm back now," John said.

"Yes, you are," McKay said, stepping closer.

"As a friend," John said, afraid that McKay might have read too much into his words.

"John," McKay said, coming even closer. "It doesn't have to be this way."

"Mr. McKay," John said, retreating. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He didn't want a conflict with McKay. He didn't want to have to give him up.

"Please don't call me that," McKay said, no longer coming closer.

"Rodney," John allowed.

"We can be safe," Rodney said. "Nobody will know. We'll be two neighbors and friends, our hearts so broken that we could not seek another love. George will attest to it if asked."

John's eyes widened. Even after Rodney had confessed his feelings, John had never considered how much George knew about his master's proclivities. But now that he thought about it, he remembered that in all the time that he'd visited McKay and worked with him alone, George hadn't once entered the study without being explicitly called for. Nor had any other servants.

It occurred to John that maybe George was under the impression that they were already... He flushed at the thought.

"It is possible," Rodney said.

John had only thought about the very public scandals that he'd heard of. He couldn't risk being caught with Rodney, but if that risk was so minimal that it was practically non-existent... He wanted to believe there was a possibility for them. Realizing that he was capable of such deep feelings had been breathtaking. The thought of acting on his feelings and knowing the kiss and touch of someone he loved inspired awe.

Rodney took his hand. John let him. "Have you ever kissed a man?" Rodney asked the same question he'd asked when they'd last been here like this.

John shook his head, heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Do you want to?" Rodney asked.

"Yes," John admitted. He wanted to kiss a man, _this_ man. He wanted to believe that it was possible, that they would be safe. He wanted to have the chance to experience love. "Yes," he repeated and leaned forward to kiss Rodney.

The first touch of his lips to Rodney's felt strange and unfamiliar, but then Rodney tilted his head and opened his mouth and John felt his body react. He slipped his arms around Rodney, holding him closer as the kiss deepened.

John's heart was doing somersaults in his chest, and the flutter in his stomach was out of control. He felt as if his feet were ready to lift off the ground. It was magical. It was earth shattering.

Rodney retreated just long enough to take a deep breath and ask, "Do you like it?"

"Yes," John breathed and kissed Rodney again. He didn't ever want to stop.

Rodney put his hand in John's hair at the back of his head, holding him almost possessively, while his other hand slipped under John's jacket and vest, pulling out his shirt until he touched a bit of John's skin.

John gasped. Rodney's touch sent a warm shiver through his whole body.

"Please let me touch you," Rodney said between kisses. John nodded. Rodney moved his hand up John's side under his shirt. "I've wanted to do this since I first saw you."

John recalled him stopping on the stairs and how his gaze had travelled over John's body. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Can I...?" Rodney asked, pulling more of John's shirt from his trousers.

John nodded. After a second he pulled away to divest himself of his jacket. He wasn't entirely sure what Rodney wanted to do with him, but whatever it was would be better if there was more skin to reach.

Rodney took a deep breath, then removed his hand from John's skin to unbutton his vest.

"Hurry," John said, missing Rodney's touch already.

Rodney's eyes lit up, and he smiled widely. He put his left hand on John's cheek for a second. "So beautiful."

John felt himself flush. Instead of commenting on Rodney's words, he started to unbutton Rodney's vest. He wanted his own chance of touching skin.

They finally managed to drop their jackets and vests, unbuttoning their shirts between kisses and caresses of newly revealed skin. Rodney wound his arms around John stroking him from his chest to the back with his big hands.

The movement put John chest to chest with him, and John shuddered at the electrifying contact.

They kept kissing and touching. Rodney eventually pulled John towards the large sofa in the corner.

"Lie down," Rodney said, giving John a gentle push.

John went willingly, kicking off his shoes in the process. Rodney went down with him, settling himself on top of John, one leg between John's. The feeling of Rodney on top of him, pressed against him from head to toe was amazing.

They never stopped kissing, and John's hand moved to Rodney's ass, thrusting upwards in an effort to be even closer.

Rodney moaned and pressed back, thrusting his crotch against John's. John felt himself hardening. "Rodney," he panted harshly when Rodney's mouth left his to explore John's jaw.

Rodney kissed down his neck, pushing away the collar of John's open shirt with his face, while his hand moved down John's chest.

John smiled, removing one hand from Rodney's ass, so that he could push his shirt off his shoulder, giving Rodney space to explore. Then he moved his hands to do the same with Rodney's shirt.

Rodney straightened for a second and quickly pulled his shirt off completely, throwing it out of sight. John struggled out of his shirt as well, looking up at Rodney and the expanse of his naked chest.

He put his hand on Rodney's chest, running his fingers through the coarse hair until he reached Rodney's nipples.

Rodney closed his eyes and moaned quietly before opening them again and moving down to fasten his mouth on one of John's nipples.

John gasped in surprise which turned into pleasure when Rodney suckled on his nipple. He began thrusting up into Rodney again, and Rodney put a hand on his hip to still him, before moving the hand between them to cup John's member.

"Yes," John said breathlessly.

Rodney began to undo John's trousers even as he turned the attention of his mouth to John's other nipple.

John vibrated under the onslaught of sensations Rodney caused in him. When Rodney pushed his hand into his trousers and encircled John's member with his hand, John groaned.

Rodney moved further back on the sofa, kissing his way down John's chest while his hands pulled John's trousers down.

John moved his hips up and Rodney stepped off the sofa just long enough to remove the rest of John's clothes and his own. As he went back to kneel between John's legs, John's gaze was fixed on Rodney's stiff member standing up proudly. John felt a wave of lust, wanting to touch it with not just his hands, but other parts of his body that he wasn't sure made sense.

He reached out to touch Rodney's cock, but Rodney gently pulled his hand away. "Let me satisfy you first."

For a second John had forgotten about his own stiff member, but now Rodney leaned forward and took it in his hand. John moaned at the wonderfully strong grip, thrusting upwards into Rodney's fist.

Rodney stroked him firmly a couple of times, until beads of pre-come gathered at the tip. Then he pulled down John's foreskin and licked away the fluid before swallowing John's member.

John shouted Rodney's name, his body on fire as Rodney descended on his cock, licking and sucking any coherence from John's mind. He could only feel the unbearable pleasure that Rodney drew from his body, so much more intense than the quick releases he retrieved from his own hand.

John wasn't sure how long he'd be able to bear it. He started bucking until Rodney put his hands firmly on his hips.

"Rodney," John pleaded helplessly. He was so close.

Rodney moved his mouth up and down on his cock, then took John's member in a strong grip and concentrated his sucking on the head of John's cock. When his other hand slipped beneath John's balls and stroked him there, John froze and spent his seed with a shout.

He convulsed several times, releasing spurt after spurt, which Rodney swallowed greedily. John was so overwhelmed by his climax that he nearly lost consciousness.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, he saw Rodney rapidly stroking his stiff red member.

"Please," John said between pants, reaching out to put his hand on Rodney's.

"John!" White fluid shot from Rodney's cock, covering both their hands as Rodney reached his own climax.

John looked up at Rodney, trying to forever capture the ecstasy on his face, the flush that reached down to his chest, the incinerating image of both their hands on Rodney's cock, dripping with his release.

Rodney let out a breath and then dropped unceremoniously onto John. John snorted, making a bit more place for him on the sofa, so that he could lie next to John on his side.

"Did you enjoy it?" Rodney asked, laying his come-covered hand on John's chest.

John looked at Rodney, capturing his dry hand in his. "I loved it," he said, lifting the hand to his mouth to kiss it.

Rodney looked at him in wonder, then kissed him.

~~

John felt self-conscious when he went home for lunch, but George was his polite self and gave no sign that he had any idea what had happened between his master and John.

It was hard to contain the happiness that John felt, but he managed to temper it down to simply good mood, which Katherine seemed to assign to their recent return.

"It's good to be back home, isn't it," she commented.

"It really is," John only said.

Rodney came over that afternoon. When John saw him again, he felt a rush of love and affection. He would have loved to kiss Rodney, but outside of Rodney's study they'd have to be good neighbors and friends, but nothing more. Which wasn't altogether a bad thing, because John still felt slightly overwhelmed by what had happened.

He was looking forward to exploring the physical side of their relationship, but they had time for that. It had been ages since they were able to talk and John was looking forward to that as well.

He smiled at Rodney and received a wide smile in return. Rodney's gaze was full of love, and John's smile widened for no reason other than being close again.

Katherine invited McKay into the music room, offering him coffee and pastries. She talked about their visit to David and his family and inquired about Rodney's past weeks.

"I didn't achieve anything of consequence," Rodney said. "I must admit I was slightly distracted," he added ruefully, glancing at John for a moment.

John swallowed, thinking about Rodney alone in his study, wondering if John would ever return and if he did, if he'd ever allow them to be alone again. He was glad that he had brought the uncertainty to such a satisfying end for both of them.

"Oh," Katherine said. She lowered her voice and leaned closer. "Was it your love?"

Rodney leaned closer as well. "It was," he confirmed. "But that is over now."

"How so?" Katherine asked.

John thought about intervening, but Rodney seemed quite prepared to answer her, and John felt that curiosity would only make Katherine think about it more than necessary.

"I have realized that my happiness lies elsewhere," Rodney said.

"Where?" Katherine asked with big eyes.

"Here," Rodney said, gesturing around the room to include the piano, Katherine, and John.

"But Mr. McKay, what about finding a wife and having children?" Katherine asked.

"I should not, perhaps, confess this, but I feel that I esteem you as I would my own daughter, Miss Katherine," Rodney said.

Katherine gasped. "Oh, Mr. McKay. While I could never say I love you as I do my father," she said, looking at John, before turning her gaze back to Rodney, "I do confess that I like you more even than my own uncle. I missed you so much when we were gone."

"As did I. You and your father both," Rodney said, looking at John. Katherine went around the table to hug Rodney. Rodney awkwardly patted her on the back, then straightened. "It's settled then," he declared. "You'll be my honorary family."

John smiled fondly at the two of them. Katherine seemed very pleased, but then her expression turned thoughtful. "So you're no longer sad about your love?" she asked Rodney.

Instead of answering, Rodney walked to the piano and started playing.

The song was so full of happy energy and passion that it startled John. Katherine seemed delighted.

"This is how it makes me feel to be with you and your father," Rodney said.

"Then it must be true," Katherine said, walking over to where Rodney was playing.

John smiled and got up as well. He stood behind Rodney and lightly put a hand on his shoulder. Rodney looked up at him and smiled brightly before turning back to concentrate on his playing.

John let the sound of the music wash over him, feeling the love and happiness that radiated from all three of them.

His life had by no means been an unhappy one before he'd met Rodney, but thinking about the many mornings, afternoons, and nights full of music, learning, and discussion they had ahead of them and thinking of the many ways that he and Rodney had yet to explore each other by touch, John realized that it was going to be a much fuller life than he ever could have imagined.


End file.
